Strip Tease
by blocked-in
Summary: (I think I've given up trying to rename this story...) Glee AU based on the movie Burlesque. Sebastian finds himself stuck back in Ohio after college. After quitting his dead end job at the Lime Bean, he heads to LA in search of a new life. And the minute he enters the slightly run-down "Strip Tease" burlesque lounge, his life does a complete 180. Rated for language (as usual).
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! I'm back. It's still a little slow going on this story, but I just ****_had_**** to share it with you guys. I'm really happy with it. As mentioned, it is based off the movie Burlesque. Some scenes are lifted directly out of the movie and some things are out of order for plot purposes. Bare with me if the updates take some time! I'm sorry!**

**Disclaimer: Does not own Glee or Burlesque**

* * *

Sebastian dug in the pockets of his apron. Beside him, Jenn was already counting her earnings for the day. It had been a slow afternoon so tips were pretty meager. On top of that, even in the summer Lima, Ohio wasn't exactly a booming metropolis. $11.42 total. He sighed. He'd had better, not much better, but better. Jenn looked up from her sweeping.

"How'd you do?" she asked.

"Not great. You?"

"$14.09," she told him. He rolled his eyes.

"They like you better," he muttered.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so sarcastic and condescending," she pointed out. He shrugged. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"I'm leaving, Jenn," he said. She looked up.

"You said that before you went to school," she replied.

"I mean it this time," he insisted, "I've got a woefully useless degree in musical theatre and a minor in dance. I'm going to the only place it's got any use."

"And where might that be?" she asked, leaning on the handle of the broom.

"LA," he replied decisively.

"Thought it'd be New York," she muttered.

"I tried New York. It kind of failed; that's why I'm back here," he sniffed. "LA is one of the few places people with zero talent can still get an acting role, even if it's shitty." She snorted.

"You're not wrong. When are you going?"

"Soon as my check gets here. My lease is up, my stuff is either packed or sold; I'm getting out."

"Yeah, good luck. He hasn't paid us for last week yet," she said. Just then, their manager came in.

"Bill, can we have our pay checks?" Sebastian asked, jumping off the counter he'd been perched on.

"No. Clean off that counter," Bill replied shortly.

"Why not? You haven't even paid us for last week. We kind of need that money," Sebastian snapped.

"I'm busy. I'll be back for the late shift," he said, walking out the door.

"Goddamn," Sebastian hissed. He marched to the manager's office – thankfully the door didn't have a lock – and let himself in.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Jenn demanded, following him.

"I'm getting our pay checks. I know he has them," he said.

"Aha!" he cried triumphantly a second later, producing the file of pay checks. He shoved Jenn's checks at her. "Go, you're late picking up the kids."

"I have to clean up," she protested.

"Go. I got it covered," he insisted, "Shelby will cry if you're late again."

"You're really going?" she whispered.

"Yeah. As soon as the cleaning is done, I'm off the clock and I'm gone," he said. She hugged him slightly tearfully.

"Take this," she shoved her tips at him.

"Jenn, you need those." It was his turn to protest.

"You need them more. If I see you in a movie or commercial, I'll ring you up and demand a refund." He smiled at her.

"Thanks, Jenn," he whispered, pulling his unofficial mother into another hug.

"I'll miss you, kiddo," she said.

"I'll miss you, too," he confessed. Then he propelled her out the door and waved her off.

Alone, he looked disdainfully at the broom Jenn had left. Yeah, he would clean up, but he wouldn't do as good a job as Jenn ever did. He didn't care enough to. He wandered over to it idly before deciding to forgo the cleaning for now. Instead, he turned on his iPod and went for the small stage set up for open mic nights or poetry slams. He grabbed the mic and hit play.

_My eyes are open wide  
By the way I made it through the day  
I watch the world outside  
By the way I'm leaving out today_

He finally let it out. When he sang, it was usually quietly; singing along to the radio under his breath. Jenn had commented once or twice on his singing voice and he had been good enough to pull through NYADA near the top of his class, but he didn't sing very much anymore. Sure, he and a few Warblers who hadn't gotten out of Ohio still met up and did little shows for Dalton but that was about it. It felt good to finally just let loose.

_Tell my mother, tell my father  
I've done the best I can  
To make them realize  
This is my life  
I hope they understand  
I'm not angry, I'm just saying  
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance_

He let the final note echo through the Lima Bean. He closed his eyes. He really was leaving. And thank the fucking Lord. He stepped down and grabbed the broom, making quick work of the clean up. He had a rental car packed with the two suitcases he was bringing, one stop at the bank to cash his check and he was off.

He'd searched the yellow pages before heading out and found a cheap little apartment looking over the busiest sections of the city. It was a little decrepit and kind of shady, but he could see it being home. He unpacked and returned the rental car; he didn't have enough money to own a car himself. He hid small stacks of cash throughout the apartment, praying at least one of them would be safe if he were robbed. He then opened his ancient laptop and began his job hunt.

* * *

He tossed another sheet of paper in the trash. Two days and he'd already been turned down for nine openings. Didn't matter that he was unfairly gorgeous or had gotten a degree from NYADA, he apparently just didn't have that "star quality" everyone was looking for. City of Angels his ass. He needed to unwind and he needed a good fuck. Tomorrow he'd be back on his feet. But tonight he needed to get drunk if only to remember why he ever thought LA was a good idea. He passed several bars before one finally looked promising.

It didn't exactly have a line outside. In fact, it looked a little bit dead. The sign read 'Strip Tease' in flickering neon and there was an arrow pointing to a set of stairs. A sign proclaiming their motto—'Some views don't require windows'—adorned the wall of the stair well. He was skeptical, but it seemed like an excellent place to start; or to at least find some decent gay man to suck off. He headed down into the club in time to catch the opening number of the night.

"No sense in imagining, Darling," came a syrupy voice next to his elbow. The bouncer winked at him before holding out a hand. "$20."

"Is this just a unisex strip club?" he asked.

"Strip? Good God, I should have the bartenders washing your mouth with cosmos," he said, pressing a hand to his heart. "It's a strip _tease_, honey. This is something we like to call a burlesque show around here. You going to watch or what?" He held out his open hand again. Sebastian pressed a twenty into his hand. "Enjoy," the bouncer proclaimed, waving him in.

He took a place at the bar, watching the men's hips move in fantastic ways. Each of them only wore either a pair of extremely tight black pants, or sinfully small black shorts. There certainly was nothing left to the imagination.

"Something to drink?" came a slightly high male voice from behind him. He swiveled. A stunning creature in all black was waiting for his answer.

"I'm a little broke right now," he managed. The bartender smiled knowingly.

"Welcome to LA," he said, setting a scotch down in front of him. He was tall, not quite as tall as Sebastian, with delicate bone structure and light brown hair. His cheek bones were positively regal and his jaw smooth and nicely slanted. His eyes seemed to glimmer even in the dim lights of the club. To Sebastian they looked a stormy blue-gray. And was that eyeliner he saw? "Where are you from?" he asked.

"Ohio," he replied.

"Really? Where abouts?"

"Westerville."

"Huh, I grew up in Lima," the bartender said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, my dad moved me to Columbus just before high school, though," he explained. Sebastian nodded and turned back to the show. The bartender poked their lazy waitress into action. He eyed the dancers thinking only one thing: _I should be doing that_.

"Hey," he caught the bartender's attention, "Who does a guy have to flirt with to get from here to that stage?" The bartender smirked.

"You? Flirting?" he gave a laugh. "It won't do much, but you can try my name." He passed him a card. "Through that door. You're looking for Santana," he continued. He pointed to a door beside the stage.

"Thanks," Sebastian said, pausing to look at the card, "Kurt." Kurt shrugged and turned back to his customers.

He pushed into the back area, finding what he assumed was the dressing room. It was a bustle of life and he wondered if this maybe wasn't the best idea. Still, he squared his shoulders and tried not to stare at the beautiful men surrounding him. He tapped one of them on the shoulder.

"I'm looking for Santana," he asked. The man indicated a tall, stunning Latina doing her make-up. "Thanks." He approached her carefully, she looked like she could tear his head off in one go if she wanted to.

"Who are you and why are you back here? You're not one of my dancers," she snapped immediately upon noticing him.

"Uh, no, no I'm not," he said quickly. "I'm a friend of Kurt's and I was hoping you were looking for more dancers." The woman appraised him.

"Tall is good, but your teeth are too big and your face is awkwardly thin. I guess it works for you, even if you do remind me somewhat of a chipmunk. Leave your name and contact information with Jeff and he'll call when we have an opening," she replied in a clipped tone. Sebastian was a little taken-aback. That was the first time anyone had blatantly insulted his looks to his face. But he turned to see the blond she'd indicated.

"Um, can you tell me when that might be? I'm kind of desperate," he began, but was interrupted by a tiny brunette.

"Santana, I twisted my ankle in the last dance, could I sit this one out?" she asked.

"No, Girl Hobbit, you can't," she hissed.

"You're the only one light enough for Thad to hold up," a lean blond reminded her. "If you fall, leg up, boobs out. Try to remember you're a goddess."

"Thank you, Jeff," she gushed and rushed off. Santana snorted. Sebastian tried again, but was cut off once more.

"Jeff, where the hell is Quinn?" Santana snapped.

"Late. Where else would she be?" he answered simply.

"I'm never late," Sebastian said quickly. God, did he sound pathetic.

"That's great. Go leave your information with Kurt and we'll give you a call," Jeff said dismissively. He propelled Sebastian out of the room and he quickly found himself back at the bar.

"How'd the flirting go?" Kurt asked him, smirking. He glowered. Kurt just laughed and went back to work.

He turned back to the floor. A group of girls were up there now and not holding his interest at all. His eyes searched the room, looking for whoever else was completely uninterested in the performance. He didn't come up blank. But the thing he most noticed was their good-for-nothing waitress. Please, he could do twice as well. And with that, he snatched one of the silver platters and went out on the floor.

"Two martinis, extra dry and a Sex on the Beach," he called. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you work here now, do you?" he asked.

"Look, if I'm not a thousand times better than Brainless over there I'll leave and never set foot in here again," he said, "One night. I'm desperate."

"Clearly," Kurt muttered, but turned to get him the drinks.

* * *

"Hey," he heard a voice as he wiped down the last table. It was near 1 in the morning. He looked up to see Kurt pulling on a jacket; everyone else had trickled home. "You're hired. Be here tomorrow at three; you'll start your training. Oh, and wear something tight and black." Sebastian grinned.

"Thanks," he said.

"Go home," was all Kurt returned with. He headed outside. He was just hailing a cab when the roar of a motorcycle approached him. The driver lifted his black visor.

"I don't remember getting your name," Kurt called over the engine.

"Sebastian," he supplied, climbing into the cab. Kurt lifted a hand in a good-bye and snapped his visor back into place, pulling out into the street. Dear God, if that wasn't sexy…

* * *

**YAYY! Hope you guys love it already! Review would be epic!**


	2. Chapter 2

The next night Sebastian showed up in a pair of black skinny jeans and a fitted charcoal button down partially undone. He detected the glint of admiration in Kurt's eyes as he appraised him. Excellent: slam-dunk gay. He left his coat in the back room Kurt indicated and came back out on to the floor. The dancers and band were rehearsing a bit and the bartenders were setting out the alcohol.

"So, what first?" Sebastian asked, plopping into a stool across from Kurt who was scrubbing down the bar. He was in casual clothes, not the fitted black vest all the bartenders wore. Still, he looked fabulous.

"Well, you're going to want to learn the short hand for your orders. It gets busy," he paused and continued under his breath, "rarely," then in a normal voice, "so we can't have you rattling off this long list of names. We need it short and fast."

"I'm not really a short kind of guy and I prefer to draw things out," Sebastian purred. Kurt snorted.

"Jeez, you really did grow up in Westerville," he muttered. He passed Sebastian a long list. "That's what we offer and their condensed names. I'd recommend having it memorized for tonight." He looked down at it. "There's a back side," Kurt called over his shoulder as he went back into the store room. Right, so he needed to step up his game. But damn if he wasn't getting a piece of that fine ass.

The club opened far too quickly. Kurt was apparently intent on making his life difficult. He taught him everything he needed to know in that single afternoon and expected him to have it memorized by the time he went out on the floor the same night. There was a lot more than he had originally thought. Still, it was a job. He wasn't complaining. And as far as jobs went, it wasn't so bad. He got to watch beautiful men dance with barely any clothes on.

The first customers started trickling in around 8:00. Kurt disappeared to change and the other bartenders lightly teased Sebastian good naturedly. Kurt came back moments later and shooed them all to work. Sebastian's mouth went dry and he felt his skinny jeans tighten ever so slightly. He hadn't noticed last night, but Kurt was dressed almost as provocatively as the dancers. His black pants hugged his sinfully spectacular ass in all the right places and accentuated a pair of mile-long legs. The vest was fitted and he wore nothing underneath. Despite the LA sun, his skin was still a creamy white, not a blemish or scar marring it anywhere.

"Sebastian," Kurt snapped, bringing him back to the real world.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"You were eye fucking me while there are customers waiting. Get to work," he replied. Hearing the swear roll off his tongue in that high voice made Sebastian want to taste it for himself. Oh, he would dream about those legs. He grabbed a tray, however, a headed off.

"Hey, Jeff, isn't that the chipmunk imposing on my dressing room last night?" Santana's voice called from the end of the bar. Jeff peered at the new waiter.

"Sure is," he said.

"Porcelain!" Santana called. Kurt came over. "What the hell is he doing here?" She pointed to Sebastian.

"He needed a job," Kurt said shortly. "He picked up a tray and started working. He was practically on his knees asking for this job."

"Should've let him stay there, might've been beneficial for you," she muttered. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Face it, Porcelain, that lily white ass of yours needs a little action. But that's a side note. When did I make you head of personnel?"

"You want your customers happy or not?" Kurt asked. "He's fast. And the faster he moves, the faster they drink, the more they drink, the more money you get." Santana scrutinized him.

"Fine. But just because your logic makes sense. What's his name?"

"Sebastian," Kurt told her.

"Hey, Sebastian," she called. He made his way over, trying but failing to look sheepish. "Look, I know I said your face is too long and your smile reminds me of a horse, but this," she stopped to indicate the outfit, "might just work on you. Only, show off what you got a little more. You want tips, don't you?" And with that, she wrenched open the rest of his shirt, showing off his toned chest and abs. "Much better. What do you think Porcelain?" She sent Kurt a devilish smile. Kurt looked over.

"I've seen better," he said breezily. "What do you need?" Sebastian rattled off his order. As Kurt turned his back, he caught Santana wink at him. She'd seen the way Kurt's eyes had wandered, too.

"Don't ever go behind my back again, you understand Chipmunk?" she told him.

"Got it."

"Good," she snapped. Sebastian took the tray from Kurt with a smirk and went back out. "Jeff," she continued, "get that boy a vest. He doesn't match." Jeff nodded and took note of it.

"Guess he'll be staying for a while, then?" Jeff asked. Santana sniffed.

"I doubt it," she muttered, but Jeff could see right through her. He smirked. "What?" she sneered, "A girl can't appreciate a good worker?"

"You just like a person who's not easily intimidated," he replied, turning back to the count he was making.

"Whatever."

* * *

Sebastian loaded the two trays with the drinks Kurt gave him and headed into the dressing room. Almost immediately, he was surrounded, people grabbing drinks from him. He put down the trays and helped hand them out until only two shots of Jack remained.

"Those are Quinn's?" came Santana's voice. He nodded, still unsure of who this Quinn person was. "Shit." Santana picked up both of them and downed one just as an angel of a girl glided over.

"Those are mine," she said in a smooth voice.

"Not anymore," Santana snapped. She downed the second one and put the glasses back on the tray. Quinn sneered.

"Get dressed, Lucy, you're on," was all Santana said. The girl – Quinn? Lucy? – turned to him. She had a near perfect face complete with high cheek bones, button nose and round lips. She tossed her natural blond hair over her shoulder and folded her arms.

"Staring at me, waiter boy?" she hissed, "Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?"

"Sorry, I've just never seen someone so beautiful," Sebastian murmured, pretending to look dazzled. She preened.

"Well then, stare away, Gorgeous," she purred.

"Hm," he suddenly said thoughtfully as he picked up the tray, "I just realized something. I should've said: I've never seen a queen so beautiful. I mean, no one would ever know." With a smirk, he left again. Quinn looked furious.

* * *

"I saw Sue in here earlier," Jeff said, popping into Santana's office. She looked up at him sulkily.

"Yeah," she muttered sharply.

"What's up?"

"Nothing." She threw a paper airplane at him.

"What's this?" he asked, unfolding it.

"Dunno." He peered at it, then looked over the top of the paper at Santana.

"It's about the two mortgages," he said.

"Shut up," Santana said. Jeff raised an eyebrow. "I've got raise that number on that paper in a month or I'm done. Sue was in here yelling at me. She says I should just sell to Will Schuester."

"Sue said that?" Jeff asked in disbelief.

"Well, not in so many words," she muttered. Jeff sighed. "Lie to me, Jeffery."

"You're a hideous, hagged-out, do-gooder," he told her. She let out a weak laugh.

"We'll make it work, San, we always do," he assured her. She pulled her legs off the desk and stood. Jeff put an arm around her and hugged her gently.

"Get away, you sap," he muttered, but she smiled softly as she turned away.

* * *

"So who is everyone?" Sebastian asked one evening as the bartenders were setting up and he was wiping down tables. Kurt sighed and indicated each person as they passed through the stage side door.

"You've got Rachel," he started, pointing to the tiny brunette. "You'll often hear her referred to as Man Hands or Girl Hobbit. There's her dance partner Thad" he pointed to a slightly skinny guy, "who Santana deems not important so his only nick name is Weakling."

"Quinn you had the displeasure of meeting last night," he continued, "face of an angel, soulless as any demon. And her partner Noah whom everyone calls Puck. Jeff, of course, Santana's right-hand man. Tina, or Girl Chang, the only female Asian. Mike, the male Asian of no relation to Tina, whose partner is Brittany. Britt and San were dating for a while, but Britt broke it off. The only reason she's still around is because she's the best dancer we've got. Those are the only ones I really know well; they've been here from the start.

"Among the others I think there's Kitty, who acts like a mini Quinn, Marley; Brody; Jake, Puck's little brother; Ryder; Wade-slash-Unique, our resident drag queen; and Sam. Then some more back-ups that I don't care about knowing." Sebastian nodded along as he spoke, taking note of each of the faces Kurt pointed out.

"So, does Santana nick name everyone?" he asked.

"Mostly."

"How did you end up with Porcelain?" he asked with a smirk. Kurt chuckled.

"That came from her predecessor, Sue, who still comes around sometimes. She gave me a choice of nick names when I first started here and Porcelain was by far the lesser or several evils. It stuck," he said with a shrug. "And now that you've wasted a good amount of my time, you can finish those tables and put the water bottles up for the band."

"Who's in the band?" he asked, taking the labeled water bottles Kurt pushed at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Finn's on drums, Artie's on guitar, so is Joe, Jesse's the pianist, Chandler's on violin, David is the sax player, and Wesley is bass. They're the ones who get water. The other members don't play as much. Don't ever get their water bottles mixed up, they may kill you. Now scoot," Kurt snapped. Sebastian did as told, trying to remember all the names Kurt had rattled off today. Seriously, this guy was bent on making things hard for him. In more ways than one; because, let's face it, was there anything hotter than a man who doesn't take shit?

* * *

Now that his nights were filled at the bar, he didn't have much time in the day. He slept late and went to work early, giving him a fairly small window to use for himself. In the first week, he spent his time Googling Kurt. His last name, Hummel, was listed on his card. However, the man seemed to be a ghost. He didn't have a Facebook, a Twitter, or even a Myspace page. He finally found the name in an article about an up-and-coming Broadway performer.

"_The production's star, Blaine Anderson, explained to the press that the on-stage romance was nothing more, effectively putting to bed all rumors circulating on the subject. 'I'm very much in love with my boyfriend, Kurt Hummel, who recently became my finacé,' the actor told us, 'And being gay, my costar holds little interest for me. Our romance on-stage is just that: on-stage only.'"_

Well. That sucked. The article was dated just under a month ago. No doubt Kurt was still engaged to the man. How had he not noticed a ring? He searched this Blaine Anderson character and came up with lines of pictures of a handsome young man. So that was Kurt's type. He looked like a blushing school boy. He wore bowties in almost every picture for pete's sake. His hair looked like it was held down with cement and he had a slightly goofy smile. Normally, Sebastian would have been all over the kid, but now he only felt jealousy toward him. Which was strange.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana strolled into the bathroom looking for Quinn. A pair of heels poked out from under a stall door, but not Quinn's strappy stilettos. Santana frowned as she heard obvious sounds of throwing up.

"Marley?" she asked. The heels moved and the girl stood.

"Yeah," she said weakly. She stepped out.

"Please don't be sick," Santana begged. Marley shook her head.

"I'm fine." San looked her up and down. She was looking thinner than usual and her nail beds were looking particularly abused. Santana knew the look.

"Please be sick," she switched tactics. Marley shook her head again.

"I'm fine," she insisted, washing her hands.

"Bull shit. How long has this been going on?" Santana snapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Marley Rose, you are bulimic. Don't fuck around with me," San growled. Marley shook her head.

"No, I'm not. I can stop. I'll eat more. I promise. Some of the take-out I got the other night didn't agree with me," she protested quickly. "I'll eat."

"See that you do. I can't have my girls passing out on stage," Santana hissed. She stalked out. Marley sighed and dropped her face into her hands.

"You're okay, Marley, you're okay," she whispered to herself. She shook herself, put on a smile, and walked out to get back to rehearsals.

* * *

When he got to the bar that night, Sebastian was greeted by Jeff wordlessly holding out a fitted black vest just like the one all the bartenders wore. He took it without questioning, wondering how they'd gotten his measurements. Kurt raised an eyebrow when he saw it.

"Looks like you'll be sticking around for a while, Chipmunk," he said.

"I'm glad," Sebastian said, "more time to spend with you." Kurt snorted.

"Look, that may have worked in Lima, but this is LA, baby. You're not going to get laid with cheesy pick-ups and bad lines. You want a good fuck? Buy one," Kurt told him. Sebastian looked slightly shocked.

"You're telling me to hire a hooker," he said blankly.

"Yeah. Because you clearly can't flirt for shit which suggests you're not so much to brag about in bed, either."

"Maybe you should take me for a test run before you smear me," Sebastian hissed, too much anger present for it to be a real pick-up line. Kurt sent him a look like ice.

"Cut it out," he snapped, "go do your damn job."

"What's got your panties in a twist, Porcelain?" he demanded rhetorically as he grabbed the wash rag for the tables. Kurt just shook his head. The line of his shoulders was tense beneath his vest. Moments later, he saw the figure of Blaine Anderson stroll in.

"Hey, baby," he called. Kurt turned and smiled, but it looked slightly forced.

"Hey," he said cheerfully. He went over and kissed him soundly. "I missed you." Why did that sound like a lie?

"Aw, I missed you, too," Blaine cooed. Damn him, he even sounded like a sweetheart. "Is this the new waiter?" Sebastian looked up from the table he'd just turned back to.

"Yep," Kurt said.

"I'm Sebastian," he supplied, coming over.

"It's nice to meet you, Sebastian. Kurt says you're from Westerville. I grew up there," he said enthusiastically as he shook his hand. Did he have to be so polite?

"Really, that's cool," he said flatly. Kurt gave him an annoyed look.

"Seb, why don't you finish up the tables and put up the water bottles," Kurt suggested tightly.

"Oh, come on, Kurt, I'd love to share war stories with him. You can put up the water bottles, can't you?" Blaine asked with a slight pout and puppy-like eyes. Kurt smiled, but his eyes looked like razors as he stared at Sebastian.

"Sure. You two get to know each other," he replied. He took the water bottles and walked off. Had his hips always moved like that? Damn.

"So where did you go to school?" Blaine asked him.

"Dalton Academy," he said.

"No way! So did I! Were you in the Warblers? Kurt mentioned you sang a little."

"I was. What year were you?" Sebastian asked. Blaine didn't look much older than himself.

"I was class of 2013," he said.

"Huh, so was I."

"Well, I transferred to public school in my junior year. My parent's got their jobs cut so we couldn't afford it anymore," Blaine explained. "But that's so weird. How have we never met before?"

"I transferred to Dalton in my junior year. Guess we just missed each other," Sebastian murmured with a charming smile.

"Too bad," Blaine said. "So where did you go to college?"

"NYADA," Sebastian said proudly.

"Wow! That's great! I went to Julliard myself, NYADA was my second choice. Guess I picked the wrong school, huh?" he asked with a wink.

"If you went to NYADA, how'd you end up in a hole-in-the-wall burlesque lounge in LA?" Kurt asked tartly, coming back from the band's set-up. Sebastian frowned, Kurt had never been particularly rude to him.

"I didn't make it in New York." he explained. Kurt shrugged as if to say 'no big surprise'.

"That's too bad," Blaine cut in. "I guess it's just not for everyone. You've got to have real talent to do Broadway." Okay, Sebastian didn't like him. Politeness and sweetness be damned. This kid was an attention-hogging, self-elevating jerk. What did Kurt see in him?

"Guess so," he muttered. "I've got to finish these tables or Santana will have my head. And possibly my dick. Nice talking to you." He pushed off the bar and turned back to the greasy surfaces. He heard Kurt bid Blaine goodbye and listened to them share a kiss he considered far too long for just a casual 'see you later'. He turned back when Blaine had left. He tossed the rag down on the countertop and stared at Kurt until he met his eyes.

"What do you see in him?" he demanded.

"What do you care? I don't have to justify my relationship to you," Kurt snapped.

"I'm your friend. And don't think I can't see how tense you are around him," Sebastian shot back. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"We're not friends, Sebastian, we're coworkers. And speaking of work, it's time you got to it. We've got customers," he hissed. That hurt. Sure, they'd only known each other for a few weeks, but he had definitely thought there was something there. Apparently not.

* * *

The rest of the evening, he only spoke to Kurt as far as asking for drink orders. Normally, they would exchange playful banter or make fun of Rachel's over-the-top routines. Sometimes, Kurt would feed him a juicy piece of gossip about someone he was serving. But tonight, he was met with stony silence from Kurt. Like he cared. Ha.

Jeff told him to go home early around 12:30. He had to finish a few things up so he would lock up, a job that was usually left to Sebastian. He thanked him and left without looking at Kurt. As the door swung shut behind him, Jeff turned on Kurt.

"Well that wasn't normal," he said. Kurt didn't look at him. "Hey, Kurt." Jeff snapped his fingers at him.

"What?"

"Don't you and Sebastian usually share a tear-filled goodbye with promises of calling right when you get home," Jeff asked.

"Ew, no," Kurt sneered.

"Well you at least interact," he pointed out, "so what's up."

"Nothing," Kurt said shortly.

"Right. This has _nothing_ to do with Hobbit coming back and _nothing_ to do with the fact that you and Sebastian flirt every time you're in the same room. Because all of that is just _nothing_," Jeff said sarcastically.

"Shut up, Jeffery," Kurt snapped.

"Look, all I'm saying is if you don't love the attention-seeking Hobbit anymore, Criminal Chipmunk is a damn good option."

"No he's not," Kurt replied. "I know his type. Besides, I do love Blaine."

"Sure you do, Porcelain, sure you do. Just remember, opportunity doesn't knock forever." Jeff walked away from the bar, leaving a frowning Kurt behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Sebastian made the trek up to his room. He was exhausted. He thanked whatever higher power had caused Jeff to let him off early tonight. Kurt had worked him to the bone. It was hard enough being the only waiter, but Kurt had set him jobs others normally did like sending him to the store room for more liquor et cetera. Reveling in the thought of his impending relaxation, he didn't notice anything wrong until he was directly in front of his door.

"Shit!" he swore aloud, pushing open the busted door. His apartment was trashed. His things were thrown all over the floor, his few framed pictures were smashed and his laptop was gone. "Oh, no, no, no," he muttered. He searched the place, but not a single stash of cash was left. "Fuck!" he swore again. The stress and anger overwhelmed him and he felt tears biting his eyes. Great, now he looked like a sissy.

He picked up the frame of him and Jenn and her two kids, Leo and Shelby. It was his favorite picture and the only one he really cared about. It was, thankfully, not ripped. _At least these assholes were polite enough not to shred my pictures_, he thought bitterly. He picked himself up, packed and left the key at the desk. He wasn't staying there another night, but that left only one place to go.

* * *

Kurt's motorcycle broke through his half-asleep haze. He looked up as he pulled off his helmet. Kurt squinted at him questioningly.

"Sebastian?" he asked, confused. Sebastian stood.

"Hey," he croaked lamely, unwillingly letting Kurt know he'd been crying. Kurt's face immediately softened and he picked up one of Sebastian's bags.

"Come inside," he said. Sebastian followed him, babbling softly.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go and I haven't got any money. I didn't know if Blaine was asleep, so I didn't knock in case I woke him," he went on and on. Kurt put a hand against his mouth, shutting him up and sending sparks down his spine.

"It's fine. Come on in, I'll get you a drink." he murmured. He led him in and placed him on the couch. He bent and wiped the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. "And stop crying. It's not like you and it's extremely unnerving." Sebastian let out a watery laugh and Kurt went to the kitchenette to grab him a drink.

He returned with a glass of whiskey in his hand and gave it to Sebastian. He took a sip and let the burn of the alcohol ground him. He sighed and slumped back on the couch. Kurt seated himself on the coffee table facing him.

"Now, tell me what happened," he said gently, "slowly and preferably without tears."

"I went back to my place and my stuff was everywhere. My money and my laptop had been stolen. I've got nothing. I just need one night, then I can cash my checks – thank God I keep them on me – and find a new place," he explained. Kurt nodded.

"Then get some sleep," he murmured. He stood and fetched a pillow and blanket for him. After a flicker of hesitation he stooped and placed a feather-light kiss on Sebastian's forehead.

"Thank you," Sebastian whispered.

"You're welcome."

"I mean it, I'm glad I don't have to be alone tonight," he whispered. Kurt pushed him back into a reclining position.

"Shut up and sleep. You're scaring me," he said affectionately. He took the whiskey from his hand and went to the bedroom without another word.

Sebastian woke to a high, quiet moan the next morning. Apparently, it was Kurt's wake up call, too, because there was a shuffling of sheets and another moan, this one deeper (clearly from Blaine). The loft apartment was too damn small and the walls too damn thin. Sebastian could hear every incredibly sexy breathy moan Kurt gave. God, he wanted to be the one making Kurt moan like that. There was another high moan that cut off then a quiet protest.

"B, no," Kurt whispered. Blaine made a questioning sound. "Sebastian's here." There was a frustrated groan, then shuffling and footsteps. No, shit, no. Oh, fuck, he was hard. Shit, shit, shit. He turned so his chest, and effectively his crotch, faced the back of the couch. Kurt stepped out of the bedroom a moment later.

"Seb, you up?" he asked quietly. Sebastian shuffled and looked up blearily, trying to make it look like he'd just woken.

"Huh?" he mumbled. Kurt went bright red. Right, his act hadn't worked.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, turning to get the coffee started quickly. Sebastian smirked. He sat up, relieved his arousal was curbed for now.

"No big. You could've kept going. I didn't mind," he flirted shamelessly, falling back into habit easily. Kurt blushed crimson again. Sebastian took the time he was turned away to stare at him. Oh, God, he was hot.

He was shirtless. The expanse of his back was just as unmarred as the rest of him. His muscles, surprisingly defined, rippled enticingly as he moved. The blush from his cheeks leaked down his back and he presumed his chest as well. Was he drooling? Oh my God, was that a tattoo?

"Morning, Sebastian," came a chipper voice, reminding him Kurt's _fiancé_ was still with them.

"Morning," he replied quickly, turning away from where he was ogling the man's fiancé.

"So not that it's not nice to see you, but what are you doing on our couch?" Blaine asked, sitting down at the little breakfast bar in their kitchenette.

"My place was robbed. I'll be out of your hair as soon as your wonderful betrothed here gives me caffeine," he promised.

"Oh, man, that sucks," Blaine said. Did he have to be so sweet? And, yes, he was damn good looking, too. His chest was more defined than Kurt's and had a slight layer of soft hair. His hair, released from the death hold his gel had on it, was curly and unruly. He was tanner than his fiancé as well. Still, Sebastian's eyes roved back to Kurt's trim frame. "You know, you can stay as long as you need," Blaine offered.

"Yeah, it's not problem," Kurt said, turning around to them with two mugs of coffee. "Milk or sugar?" Yeah, that was definitely another tattoo in the hollow of his right hip.

"Nope, black like my heart," Sebastian said. Kurt put a creamer out for Blaine before pouring a splash of skim milk into his own. "You guys would really let me crash on your couch?"

"Sure, you're Kurt's friend. Any friend of Kurt's is a friend of mine," Blaine said easily. Damn it he was so hard to hate.

"Well, I mean, isn't three a crowd?" he asked. Blaine shrugged.

"I've got to go back to New York next week for another show," he said breezily. Kurt frowned.

"You said you didn't have anything for a few months just last week over the phone," he bit out. Blaine looked at him.

"Oh, yeah, the show was extended. Isn't that awesome?!" Blaine exclaimed, grasping Kurt's hands. Kurt pulled his hands away gently but firmly and turned.

"You could've mentioned that," was all he said. Blaine looked slightly at a loss.

"I thought I'd surprise you. Aren't you happy for me?"

"I'd be happier if we were getting married," Kurt muttered. Sebastian looked down into his coffee.

"We are getting married, baby! After the show closes," Blaine explained as if he were speaking to a child.

"Yeah, you said that when you were in the last show," Kurt replied tartly.

"Well, I'm in high demand. Aren't you proud of me? Everyone wants me." Kurt sighed.

"I am proud, honey. I just want to be your husband." He turned back a smiled sadly at Blaine. Blaine jumped up and went around the bar to hug and kiss him.

"You will be," he promised. "Very soon." Kurt smiled more genuinely.

"Good." They kissed again, getting a little into it. Sebastian put down his mug with ever so slightly too much force and stood. He grabbed his bag and began rifling for clothes.

"So, Sebastian," Blaine said, clearing his throat awkwardly as if just remembering Sebastian was there, "do you need help looking for an apartment?"

"I think I'll be good. I'm gonna head into work early," he said.

"The bathroom's through there," Blaine said, pointing.

"You need a ride? I've got to do inventory today," Kurt offered. Sebastian nodded.

"That'd be great."

"Okay." Kurt kissed Blaine again and went into the bedroom to change. The bathroom was attached to the bedroom so he caught sight of Kurt bending over to go through his drawers for clothes. His mouth went dry and he nearly stopped. Dear God he was hopeless.

He closed the door to the bathroom, trying not to think about those lines of ink just barely hidden by his pants. Trying not to imagine mouthing over them. Trying not to imagine turning the black ink red as he sucked. _Stop it, Sebastian. He's ENGAGED_, he thought. He looked down. He needed a cold shower immediately.

"Seb, you ready?" Kurt called about a half an hour later. He stepped out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his hair. Today, it wasn't perfectly coiffed. Instead it was combed around a little bit with a bit of bangs hanging over his forehead. It looked hot.

"Yeah," he said, remembering Kurt's question and standing. He caught Blaine looking slightly put-out as Kurt kissed him goodbye. Okay, his staring wasn't going unnoticed. Fucking good. Blaine better realize it was time to try harder to keep Kurt. Because Sebastian couldn't turn down a challenge. Kurt passed him a spare helmet and led the way out of the loft. He climbed on his bike and waited for Sebastian to have his helmet on and get situated.

"Hold on to my waist," he instructed. Sebastian curled his arms around Kurt's slim form. Oh, yeah, this felt right. Making sure he was securely holding on, Kurt peeled out and toward Strip Tease.

* * *

Sebastian watched the men dance. His eyes were trained on their feet, memorizing the steps. He'd gotten better. He was a very fast learner and he was learning every number they did. One day he would have his chance on that stage. One thing he did notice was the lack of vocals. None of them actually sang, just danced. Well, he could do both and he was damn good at both. He planned on using this to his advantage. He smiled to himself.

"What's got you looking so smug?" Kurt asked, placing a crate of alcohol on the bar by his elbow. Sebastian admired the flex of his muscles.

"Nothing. Just thinking," he said airily.

"Don't hurt yourself," Kurt snorted, rolling his eyes. Sebastian stuck out his tongue at him. "Wow, mature."

"Shut up, Hummel," Sebastian snapped. Kurt smirked and went back to the inventory sheets.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian picked up another empty glass, glancing up at the stage longingly. Without thinking, he kicked his leg up along with the dancers. One of his hands followed another boy's. Kurt cleared his throat loudly. He jumped slightly and put the glasses back down on the bar. Kurt smirked, but there was real admiration and amusement in his eyes.

"It's cool how you do that," he admitted. Sebastian smiled.

"Thanks. I'm a fast learner," he said, trying to slide an innuendo into his words. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You really are desperate aren't you?" he said. He pushed the tray at him.

"Nope, just looking for the perfect porcelain ass to fill," he said, winking blatantly. Kurt pointed to the floor.

"Go on." Sebastian sauntered out, making sure to move his hips more than usual. He passed out the drinks, going by one of the reserved tables on his way.

"Hey," a voice called. He looked up to see a taller man with almost as much gel in his hair as Blaine summoning him. He walked over. "Whiskey sour and your best Merlot. Bring the bottle," he said. He pushed a platinum card across the table. Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"Right away," he muttered, unimpressed. He strolled back to the bar at his leisure and put the card on the counter.

"Whiskey sour," he said. Kurt sighed and grabbed the card.

"And a bottle of Merlot for the table," he finished for him.

"I suppose he's a regular then?"

"That's William Schuester," Kurt muttered harshly, "he's in here every week at least looking for new talent. He runs an ad agency and needs singers and dancers for his commercials. He's been courting Rachel recently, but she won't go anywhere without Finn at her side."

Sebastian had learned about the couples in the bar fairly quickly. Good as he was at reading people, it didn't take long. Finn and Rachel had an on-again, off-again thing going on. Every off-again drove Rachel into the arms of either Jesse or Brody to make Finn jealous, which would always work and they'd be back on in a week or so. Quinn was regularly opening her legs for Puck apparently (and, according to Kurt, they'd had a baby drama last year when it looked like Quinn had gotten pregnant) even though Puck was with Kitty at the moment and Quinn was supposed to be with Joe. Mike and Tina were obviously together, making goo-goo eyes and cuddling whenever the chance presented itself. Artie was currently seeing Brittany, but Kurt agreed it wouldn't last long because Artie had been making eyes at Kitty recently. Marley was bouncing back and forth between the younger Puckerman and Ryder, though from what Sebastian could see, both boys realized they were being played and didn't care. He kind of felt like he was on a soap opera.

"There's another reason we don't like him, right?" Sebastian asked as Kurt dug for their best unopened bottle of Merlot before sending another bartender to the store room, "because I'm pretty sure no one would be that upset if Rachel left."

"First of all, Rachel is a good friend of mine even if she's delusional and a control freak to an extreme. And second, yes, there is. He's been trying to buy up the club recently. We're not sure what he wants to turn it into, but if he buys it, we're all pretty sure we're out of work," Kurt explained, placing the whiskey sour in front of Sebastian.

"Should I spit in his drink?" Sebastian asked jokingly. Kurt chuckled.

"Don't let Santana hear that. No matter how much she hates the man, she'll always brag good quality service," he said. He took the bottle from the other bartender and plunged the cork screw in. Sebastian watched the muscles in his arms flex as he gently opened it. Since when was opening a wine bottle so freaking sexy? He splashed a bit of the wine into a tumbler and rolled it, taking a quick taste. He nodded to himself and put the bottle on Sebastian's tray. Sebastian carried it back to the table.

"What's your name? You're new here, right?" William Schuester asked as he placed the drinks and wine glasses in front of him.

"Sebastian," he told him simply and walked away. William smiled slightly. There could be a place for a physique like that in the agency.

* * *

One thing Sebastian couldn't get past was the lack of actual voices. He'd heard a couple of the dancers singing every so often and their voices were better than decent. But on stage they all lip-synced. He was willing to bet people would pay to hear Brody sing, and even Rachel – annoying as she was – had a pretty damn good voice. He considered talking to Santana about it, but Kurt had warned him against it citing Santana's utter abhorrence to change. But maybe he could get her to listen, to hear him out. And maybe he could get himself up there if the dancers could sing. No doubt his voice would be the cherry on top. Not to brag or anything.

He slipped away on his break; Kurt had been giving him some time off his feet recently. He probably felt bad that Sebastian's alarm every morning was his and Blaine's morning sex. Or he was actually starting to like Sebastian. Or both. Either way, he was grateful for the time. He slipped back stage into the slight chaos always present in the changing room.

"Hey, Santana," he called, finding her in the giant costume space with Jeff.

"What's up, Horse Teeth?" she asked, giving him a fraction of her attention as she continued to rifle through the racks. "Hey, Jeff have you talked to Ian about the new vocals?" Ian, Sebastian had gathered, was the sound guy.

"Um, yeah, that's what I wanted to talk about. Vocals," Sebastian stepped in, willing Santana to listen. "I noticed all the dancers lip-sync when they're dancing to a popular song."

"Except Santana," Jeff cut it petulantly. Santana often went out on stage with her dancers. She was always popular with the crowds.

"Well, yeah," Sebastian muttered. "But we should hear everyone else sing, too. They all can sing."

"Nope, no, this is how it's always been, Chipmunk," Santana snapped.

"They come to see the dancers dance, not to hear them sing. There is nothing overtly sexual in simply singing," Jeff put in. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't understand why we don't just try it for one night," he snapped.

"Know why? It's above your pay grade. Now get back on the floor," Santana replied simply, pointing to the door. Sebastian pressed his lips together to keep from saying something that could get him fired.

"Fine," he growled.

"Don't you growl at me, Craigslist," Santana hissed. "Jeff, get him out." Jeff propelled him back out the doors.

"She doesn't like change, Sebastian," he reminded him bluntly before shutting the stage door firmly.

Kurt smirked as he made his way back over. He had changed out of his black outfit, replacing it with a beautiful charcoal blue button down that accentuated his eyes and a pair of powder gray slacks with matching fitted vest. His makeup was gone and his hair swept up into a perfect coif. Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"Trying to tell Santana your brilliant idea?" he sniped.

"Trying to make a name for yourself in women's fashion?" Sebastian shot back good naturedly. Kurt didn't really dress like a girl, but Sebastian had seen the pictures Blaine had taken of him in high school. Kurt stuck his nose in the air.

"You wouldn't know fashion if it bit you in the ass," he sniffed.

"Want to test that hypothesis?" he purred, leaning in close to Kurt, who wasn't too much shorter than him. Kurt pushed him back. "Why all dressed up anyway?" he asked.

"Date night," Kurt said, feigning excitement. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "He's going back tomorrow," he explained.

"Sorry," Sebastian said. Kurt shrugged.

"It's fine. At least I won't be too lonely with you around. I mean, I might end up gouging my eyes out with a spoon or tearing my hair out, but I'll have company."

"Oh, haha," Sebastian muttered sarcastically. "Go on your date. Don't want to disappoint the kid." Kurt shrugged and pulled on his coat.

"Finn's going to give you a ride home, could you take my bag?"

"Sure," he said, then half pushed Kurt out the door; Kurt, who seemed less than reluctant to go out with his fiancé.

* * *

"Hey, Finn," Sebastian said as Finn started up the car, "do you like Blaine?" As it turned out, Finn and Kurt were stepbrothers though Kurt didn't mention it much. It wasn't like he hated Finn, he just didn't think it was important, Finn had explained.

"Sure. He's nice, he treats Kurt right and he's successful," Finn said.

"Huh."

"Why?"

"Do you think Kurt's happy with him?" Finn frowned.

"I used to," he admitted. "A lot of people say I'm not the smartest guy around, and I'm not. But I can tell what people are feeling pretty well, and Kurt hasn't really looked at Blaine like he used to recently."

"How did he used to look at him?"

"With stars in his eyes, like the sun rose and set on his shoulders," Finn told him. "But, I mean, that was all the way back in high school. It's been a long time."

"They've been together since high school?" Sebastian asked in disbelief.

"Yep. They always said they were forever," Finn said. Sebastian snorted. "I agree. They were each other's first boyfriends. If I've learned anything about being with Rachel, it's that only having one relationship ever in your life is pretty unsatisfying."

"Wow," he muttered. Finn nodded.

"You know, the way Kurt would look at Blaine is kind of how you look at him now." Sebastian's head snapped around toward Finn.

"I do _not_ get stars in my eyes," he snarled.

"Whatever, man," Finn muttered. They pulled up outside the apartment complex.

"Thanks for the ride," Sebastian said, retrieving Kurt's bag from the back.

"Don't mention it, man. And if Kurt and Blaine don't work out, I'm rooting for you," he called. Sebastian flipped him off. He thought he saw Finn grinning as he drove off.

He unlocked the apartment and set his bag down, falling back on to the couch. He buried his fingers in his hair and his face in hands. Whatever he told Finn, he had it bad for Kurt. Just the way he'd looked in that shirt—fitted to his frame perfectly—with his hair out of his face; so gorgeous. Blaine was insane for not tying the knot yet. Any man could swoop in here and sweep Kurt off his feet and there would be absolutely nothing stopping Kurt from leaving him. If Sebastian had his way, Kurt would be his.

_He_ would be the one taking Kurt out on dates. _He _would be the one with that gorgeous piece of ass on his arm. _He _would be the coming back to this loft, sharing a bed. God, he would peel that shirt off his slim frame, run his hands down that smooth chest, follow the trail with his tongue. He would open those fitted slacks and lick alone his hip bones. Oh, God. If the strain in his pants was any indication, he wanted Kurt more than anything.

* * *

**I'm really trying to write more, guys, but I've been busy. I promise I'll work on this more! Love you! Review is extra special love! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I feel bad about not updating this for a while, so here's another chapter.**

**Also, those of you who follow/read my other stories, you might see the name Ian cropping up in those, too. Yes, he will probably be included in most (if not all) my stories. Cuz I love him. He's also real, so you should check him out (ah hah...literally...): NebojteZnalosti. So yeah, just an FYI in case you got confused or something. (I know you weren't confused. You're all smart.)**

* * *

Blaine left early in the morning. Silent as he tried to be, Sebastian still heard his movements in the bedroom. He heard the hesitant steps out the door. Stupid Blaine. If it were him, he wouldn't be letting his steps lead out the door at all. He rolled over. Kurt was standing in the bedroom doorway, staring at the closed front door with an unfathomable expression on his face.

"Not going to go running after him to say goodbye?" Sebastian asked, more snappishly than he'd intended. Kurt started, coming out of his reverie with a jolt.

"He has a plane to catch," he said shortly, almost making an effort to sound disappointed. He turned away and shut the door firmly behind him.

Sebastian rolled back on to his back. What was going on between those two?

* * *

"Bastian, bring these to Santana," Kurt called, pushing the tray toward him. He tried not to smile at the nickname as he took the drinks. "Don't worry, you'll only be missing Quinn's number," Kurt assured him with a smirk.

"I don't care about the dances," he muttered. Kurt snorted.

"Lying's a sin, Bastian," he said. "Go on."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and headed back to Santana's office. He raised a hand to knock before realizing Santana's and Jeff's weren't the only voices coming from behind the closed door. A raised voice he recognized as Sue Sylvester had joined Santana's, and William Scheuster appeared to be in the office as well. He paused to listen.

"I'm telling you, Santana, it's a very generous offer," Scheuster said.

"Well, I'm not taking it," Santana's familiar snap came back.

"You're running this place out of business, Sand Bags," Sue sneered.

"You're telling me to take the deal?" she cried.

"Absolutely not!" Sure snapped. "But you've got to do something. I don't like being bankrupt."

"I'm telling you, my solution will be a win for everyone," Scheuster cut in calmly.

"You buying my club will not win me anything," Santana growled.

"I'm not buying your club," William interrupted.

"No, you're only going to make a sell-out of all my dancers," she snapped, "it's the same thing."

"Look, Sand Bags, you need a solution and you need it fast. And if Baby Gel over here has one, you should start considering it," Sue grumbled.

"Look, Santana, why don't you think it over and we'll talk next week?"

"No."

"You mean you'll think about it," Sue snapped. Sebastian could almost see Santana grinding her teeth.

"Yes," she growled, "I will think about it." Her tone suggested exactly the opposite.

"That's all I ask. See you next week." He heard the second door to her office close after a moment. He took a breath and knocked.

"Don't pretend you weren't listening, Horse Teeth," Santana hissed, "come in." He stepped in and set the drinks down.

"You should try letting them sing," he muttered. Santana smacked him on the back of the head and shoved him out.

"Moron," she muttered, shutting the door.

"Get lost?" Kurt asked as he returned.

"You wish," he smirked. Kurt shook his head.

"Oh, I do," he murmured. Sebastian laughed and headed back to the floor.

The male dancers had returned to the stage to distract Sebastian as he took orders. He didn't notice Kurt watching him as he, once more, mirrored the moves on stage. He could do that. He was way better than some of the dancers up there; he had a degree in this for Christ's sake! He dropped the tray back at the bar, turning to Kurt with a longing look in his eye.

"I want to do that," he practically whined. Kurt smiled slightly sympathetically. "I want to be up there; I want to dance."

"I know. The question is, though, do you have the talent?"

"I do."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," he insisted.

"Good. Because you're on," Kurt smirked, pushing the tray back to him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the drinks. Just another night, then.

* * *

Chaos ensued on Friday.

Fridays were, of course, the busiest night at the club (which wasn't exactly saying much). Everybody was coming off work needing a drink and a little stimulation before the weekend. (Sebastian would have to agree, sex was an excellent way to wind down. Not that he would know anymore, it felt like he hadn't had any in years.) Santana always put out their best numbers and best dancers on Friday nights. The club was almost half-full when Marley, Quinn, Rachel, Tina, Brittany and Kitty took the stage.

Kurt and Sebastian were chatting with the other bartenders, no body ordered drinks when this specific set of dancers had their attention, not paying any mind to the routine they'd seen over and over. They didn't notice the stagger in Marley's step, or the way she was dancing just a half and beat behind the others. They didn't notice when she paled and swayed there on stage. But they heard when she fell.

The audience gasped and cried out. The music came to a screeching halt and a clamor broke out back stage. Sebastian jerked his head around and Kurt hoisted himself on the bar to see over the crowd. Brody and Finn were carrying an unconscious Marley off the stage as the other girls looked at each other in confusion.

"Santana's going to have her head," Kurt muttered.

The door to the changing rooms banged open. Santana literally stalked in, heading straight for the weak girl. Jeff had shoved a water in her hands and forced her to sit.

"Marley Rose, you want to explain to me what the hell just happened out there?" she thundered. Marley winced.

"I just—" she began.

"You just? You just what, Marley? You 'forgot' to eat?" Santana hissed. Marley nodded weakly.

"Bull shit," Santana spat.

"Look, you've just been working us really hard recently," she started again weakly.

"Bull shit," Santana repeated. "I'm too angry to decide if I want to fire you or not tonight. Jeff, call her a cab. Britt, Mike go dance or something." She whirled and stormed out. Marley's eyes watered slightly.

"What's going to happen to her?" Sebastian murmured. Kurt shrugged.

"She won't be allowed to dance for a while, at least," he said.

"So… there's going to be a spot opening up?" Sebastian murmured. Kurt hit him with a wash rag.

"Since when were you a girl?" Kurt demanded.

"Well, I haven't used my damn cock in so long who knows? Could've plunged inward." Kurt wrinkled his nose.

"Crude," he muttered, turning away.

"Kurt, will you check for me?!" Sebastian called cheekily. Kurt flipped him off and disappeared into the store room.

"Take that as a yes," Sebastian muttered, smirking. The other bartenders laughed and Sebastian sauntered off to try to keep the remaining customers happy.

"What are you going to do?" Jeff asked, slipping into Santana's office after seeing Marley off.

"Well, she's not dancing. Not until her little problem is sorted out," she snapped back.

"I figured. But your balance will be off."

"You don't think I know that, Jeffery?" she growled. "Wade knows her parts, they're inseparable anyway, we'll put Unique in her place. It's easier to find desperate male dancers than females."

"Very well."

"Put out audition notices," Santana sighed. "And we're closing early tonight. We lost half the crowd anyway when she went down." Jeff nodded and left the office.

"Kurt, pack 'er up. Tana's shutting us down," Jeff called as he reached the bar.

"Why?"

"Because Marley feinted and San's pissed. Why else?" he asked blankly. Kurt shrugged.

"Bastian, the people," Kurt said, waving him off. Sebastian nodded and started off to tell the customers.

A few grumbles, curses and insults later, Sebastian was wiping down tables and Kurt put away the liquor. He glanced up at the other man, admiring the curve of his body as he moved. The tattoo on his right shoulder blade peeked out from his vest. Kurt turned back in time to catch him nearly drooling.

"Like what you see, stud?" he asked flirtatiously. Sebastian was almost, _almost_, caught off guard.

"You've no idea, Hot Shot," he purred, tossing aside the towel and sauntering over. Kurt chuckled. "But, seriously, that tattoo on your shoulder."

"What about it?" Kurt asked, "You've seen it before." Sebastian shrugged.

"Never could figure out what it was," he said.

"It's a nightingale," he replied.

"Why?"

"Nightingales are best known for their song," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, right, you sing," Sebastian said. Kurt nodded. "I've never heard you sing."

"Huh," was all Kurt said before returning to the store room. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

Whenever anyone brought up singing with Kurt, he blew it off quickly. According to Rachel — who had been in a glee club with Kurt in high school—and Finn, his voice was incredible. His natural countertenor was rare and lovely apparently. Sebastian was dying to hear it. But Kurt never let anyone hear him sing. It was as if that part of his life, the singing part, didn't exist. He suspected it had something to do with Blaine. The jerk.

"What about the one on your hip?" he asked as Kurt returned. He looked at him questioningly. "The tattoo on your hip, what is it?"

"That," Kurt began almost seductively, "is for me to know and you to find out." He wink and grabbed his bag.

"Coming, beautiful?" he asked, turning around when Sebastian hadn't moved.

"Not quite yet," Sebastian returned with a wink of his own. Kurt laughed, clear, free and more pure than he'd ever heard him laugh around Blaine. Something was up between them and Sebastian was intent on finding out what.

* * *

**And one last thing. I just wanted to tell you all that I had a dream I was dating Riker Lynch last night and it was the BEST DREAM EVER. Just saying. Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

"What the fuck is this nonsense, Jeffery?" Santana whined. Jeff sighed and threw another headshot into the discard pile.

"Dancing, Tana," he muttered.

"It sucks."

"Bring in the next," Jeff called. Another few guys took the stage and Ian turned on their music.

Sebastian and Kurt strolled in as the men danced. They looked absolutely ridiculous. Sebastian snorted, earning a reproachful glance from Kurt. He shrugged and dropped his things off behind the bar, grabbing a rag and starting in on the tables. Kurt rolled his eyes and headed to set up.

"Okay, thank you," Jeff called as the minimum time limit was reached. The boys stopped mid routine as Ian cut off the music. They shuffled off as Jeff threw their headshots into the discard pile.

"Was that it?" Santana asked hopelessly.

"Yup."

"Fuck me." She dragged the 'maybe' pile toward her and started shuffling through.

"He was okay. Not him. Too tall," Jeff muttered as she riffled through.

"I don't love any of them," Santana pouted. "Where are all the decent dancers in LA?"

"They're all dancing with the stars," Jeff said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

Sebastian threw down his rag. This was his chance. He motioned to Ian to start some music. Ian raised an eyebrow at him, but obliged. Sebastian hit the stage, pulling out his best moves. Santana and Jeff had stopped to watch.

"What is he doing?" Santana asked Jeff, watching him as if he'd just grown another head.

"Auditioning, I think."

"Ian, cut it!" she called. Sebastian stopped.

"Come on, Santana, I can do this. I've got a freaking degree in this shit!" Sebastian snapped at her.

"That's cute. Get off my stage," she sneered. She stood and turned.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you!" Sebastian yelled after her. Jeff's eyebrows went into his hairline. She turned slowly. "Just tell me what you want from me."

"I can't tell you! You have to make me believe you belong on that stage! You have to own that stage," she shouted right back. "I can't teach you to do that! You want to show me something? Show me that!"

"What do you want me to do to prove it?" Sebastian insisted, "What do you want, Santana?"

"I want someone who knows the numbers!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"Fine. Which one do you want to see? I know every one."

"Oh, you know every one," she snorted.

"Which do you want to see?" he growled. She looked at him quizzically, but returned to her place next to Jeff.

"You Look Better When I'm Drunk," she called to Ian. It was one of the more difficult numbers the men did and had taken forever for him to learn. He took a breath. Kurt leaned on the bar to watch. He gave Sebastian a slow nod as if to say, _You can do this._ (Though, since it was Kurt, the sentiment would be closer to: _Don't fuck this up._)

The music started and he let himself get lost in the song. Somewhere in the middle, Rachel, Marley and Quinn appeared. He ignored the intrusion (even hearing Quinn's derision and Marley's shush). He just danced. This was what he was made to do; this was what he was good at. He felt himself grinning like an idiot half way through as he knew he'd aced it.

On the floor, Santana gave a noncommittal shrug of approval. Jeff ducked his head as he smirked.

The dance was over before he realized it. Suddenly, he was standing breathing heavily and sweating slightly and the music was gone. Santana and Jeff were murmuring to each other.

"I couldn't take my eyes off him," Jeff murmured.

"Try harder," she hissed.

"Well?"

"We have better dancers," she whispered only loud enough for Jeff to hear.

"So say thanks and walk away." She hesitated.

"Santana," Sebastian began. She cut him off with a flick of her wrist.

"You were completely off in the last half," she said. He had been maybe a half a beat behind.

"Christ, Santana, please. I want this so fucking bad; I'm practically begging you. I'll get on my fucking knees. Just give me the chance to prove I can do this. I'll practice until I fucking bleed for God's sake. Fucking please, Santana!" Sebastian cried. She had turned back to Jeff.

"We can keep looking," Jeff said. She ground her teeth, turning back to him.

"Fine, you've got the job!" she snapped, cutting him off mid plea. He gaped for a second.

"Thank you so fucking much," he sighed out, finally getting his breath back, "you won't regret it."

"I'm so going to regret this," she grumbled, stalking off. At the bar, Marley started clapping.

"What are you so excited about? He's, like, your replacement," Quinn muttered. Marley stopped. Jeff jumped up on the stage.

"Congratulations," he said, shaking Sebastian's hand.

"I think she hates me now," he mumbled. Jeff chuckled.

"She hated you before. Now she kind of admires you. She likes people who speak up for themselves and don't take shit," he replied, "anyway, meet me backstage in five." He left Sebastian nearly glowing on the stage.

Kurt clapped slowly as he came out from behind the bar.

"Well, sorry for the short notice…kind of… but I quit," Sebastian told him, smirking. Kurt snorted.

"No problem. I finally get to stop hearing your voice," he replied.

"But, with my new raise, I'll be out of your hair in no time," he promised.

"Good." He laughed and half ran backstage to meet Jeff.

"Alright, let's get you measured," Jeff said, steering him to a three way mirror and whipping out a tape measure.

"What are those pants made out of anyway?" Sebastian asked as Jeff took his measurements.

"Spandex for the rookies, but the experienced men have pleather." Sebastian's eyebrows shot up.

"They can dance in pleather?" he asked. Jeff fixed him with a long look.

"You were joking," Sebastian mumbled after a beat. Jeff rolled his eyes.

"No one can dance like that in pleather," he said. "Except Kurt," he amended. Sebastian choked on the breath he'd just sucked in. He saw Jeff smirk in the mirror.

"So, just spandex," Sebastian asked, "just to clarify?"

"Yes. That means commando, by the way."

"Of course," he muttered. Jeff grinned.

"Oh come on. Makes it easy if you and Kurt want to visit the storeroom between dances," he pointed out cheekily.

"Kurt is engaged," Sebastian snapped bitterly. Jeff arched an eyebrow.

"You mark my words, Stretch," he said, straightening and rolling up the tape measure, "they won't be for much longer."

"What do you know, Jeff?" Sebastian demanded.

"Nothing I'm at liberty to tell you," Jeff replied walking away. "Your rehearsal schedule is with Santana." Sebastian rolled his eyes and headed to Santana's office.

"I've got you on the clock every day, Smythe. I want you on that stage by Friday," Santana said as he walked in. "I will have you practicing until you bleed."

"I won't let you down," he swore.

"Normally, you would be dancing with Unique because she's Marley's replacement, but you two would be completely unbalanced. I'll find you a partner later," she said, then smirked, "Maybe I can convince sweet Porcelain to get his lily white ass back up on my stage. You two would look fabulous together." She held a paper out to him, his schedule presumably.

"Is everyone playing matchmaker or something?" Sebastian demanded. He snatched the paper and stormed off. He had just shut the door when he realized she'd said 'back on my stage'. _Back_.

"Kurt, you danced for Santana?" he asked, slamming both hands on the bar. Kurt jumped.

"Well, yeah, that's how I started here."

"Why'd you stop?!"

"Sue needed a new bartender and I offered. She hated taking me off the stage, but she was desperate."

"Huh," was all Sebastian could say, trying not to picture Kurt gyrating his hips in spandex pants.

"So I suppose I'll have to come in early for you, then," Kurt said, grabbing Sebastian's schedule.

"It would be welcome."

"Oh, very well." Sebastian grinned.

"I'm so grateful, I could kiss you!" he gushed dramatically. Kurt laughed and pushed Sebastian away.

"You're still waiting tonight, so you better get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

"Shut up." He threw the rag back to Sebastian and started organizing the alcohol.

* * *

Jeff peeked his head into Santana' office. She nodded for him to come in and he closed the door behind him.

"What do you really think?" he asked. She shrugged noncommittally.

"He's alright."

"He's good, San."

"He's alright, Jeffery," she insisted snappily. He grinned.

"You like him."

"No, I don't," she muttered. He smirked. "I just think someone should get our sweet Porcelain a new man."

"By someone you mean you," Jeff clarified. She nodded.

"And you."

"Maybe you shouldn't interfere. I mean, we saw what happed last year when Rachel interfered," Jeff said logically.

"I'm not Rachel. Besides, you see it as well as I do: he's not happy. He hasn't been happy for a while. And after what Blaine did, I'm more than a little confused as to why Kurt's still with him."

"He's too comfortable with Blaine," Jeff murmured, sitting down, "he's too afraid of what might happen if he leaves him. He's afraid of stepping out of that comfort."

"He's getting pretty damn comfortable with Horse Teeth, there."

"Then let it be. They'll find each other soon enough."

"A kid like Sebastian doesn't stay single forever." They sat in silence.

"Maybe for Kurt he will," Jeff murmured.

"I just don't want Kurt making the mistake of marrying Blaine."

"You and me both, Tana," Jeff muttered. He stood and stepped out of her office.

* * *

"Hey, Kurt," Sebastian began as Kurt and he arrived at the apartment that night.

"Yes?" he said cautiously, sensing a question.

"People seem to think something happened between you and Blaine," he continued, peering into Kurt's eyes looking for a hint or two. The instant the words were out of his mouth, he watched Kurt's walls slam up.

"Is that so?" he asked neutrally. He turned and started toward the bedroom.

"What happened, Kurt?" Sebastian demanded, grabbing his arm.

"None of your business, Smythe," he hissed, wrenching his arm free.

"You're not happy with him, Kurt! Everyone can see it. What is going on between you and Blaine?" he snapped, stopping him again.

"He cheated on me, okay?!" Kurt nearly shouted, pulling free once more. He slammed the double doors to the bedroom.

Sebastian would swear he heard a quiet sob when the curtained glass doors stopped shivering.


	8. Chapter 8

**This is apparently a good week to update stuff, cuz I've gotten a lot of new chapters from other authors. So, here you go. :P**

* * *

Kurt was still asleep when Sebastian slipped through on his way to shower the next morning. He paused on his way, looking down at the man. His face was serene and clear in the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He wore only sweatpants and the nightingale tattoo on his shoulder blade stood out starkly against his white skin. His eye lashes were caked with dry tears and tracks wove their way down his cheeks. He'd cried himself to sleep last night. Kurt's eyes fluttered open under his scrutiny.

"Sebastian?" he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep and crying, his words slurred in exhaustion.

"Sorry I woke you," he whispered, "just going to shower." Kurt nodded, burying his face back in the pillows.

"I'll get up in a bit," he told him. Sebastian bit his lip and continued on his way.

He didn't hear Kurt moving on the other side of the door when he got out of the shower. He was, therefore, completely unprepared to see Kurt's fine, fine ass staring at his when he stepped out of the bathroom. Kurt had just finished pulling up his gray boxer briefs when Sebastian finally felt able to move again. He quickly made for the bedroom doors, aiming to leave as if he hadn't just been staring at Kurt's very naked backside for almost a full minute. Of course, he had to glance over his shoulder one more time. Kurt's eyes, buried in the sea of his pink blush, met his over his shoulder. Sebastian opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, before realizing the power of speech still had not been restored to him. Kurt turned away quickly and grabbed a pair of looser jeans than usual. Sebastian rushed from the bedroom. Crap. He sincerely hoped Kurt had not noticed his little problem below the belt, but luck had most likely abandoned him. Crap.

"I'm sorry I yelled last night," Kurt whispered from behind him as he came out of the bedroom a bit later.

"It's okay, I was being nosy," Sebastian assured him quickly, pushing a mug of coffee toward him. Kurt looked down into the cup as if avoiding eye contact. Sebastian glanced up at him. He felt an unspoken agreement not to speak of this morning's incident with anyone.

"He actually cheated?" he finally settled on. Kurt's eyes snapped up.

"Yes," he muttered bitterly.

"I'm sorry."

"It was years ago, back when he was a senior in high school, in fact. I forgave him and we tried being friends. But I couldn't resist him and eventually agreed to strike up a tentative relationship; I wanted to give him a second shot. So here we are," he explained.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian murmured again. Kurt shrugged.

"Is that the only reason you're so stressed around him?"

"Well, no." Kurt muttered. He went to the fridge for some breakfast. And just like that, the conversation was closed.

* * *

Santana had Sebastian starting right off the bat. Assuming he did, in fact, know every number, she had him running group numbers all day. None of the steps were taught to him and every dance was at regular tempo. And boy was he out of shape. He caught himself more than once dizzy from lack oxygen. He downed almost six bottles of water and sweated it all off. He nearly passed out from dehydration still. And that was just the first day.

He sat heavily behind the bar when the rest of the dancers went backstage to get ready. Thankfully, she didn't pull a Kurt (as Sebastian called it) and require him to dance the first night. Instead, he was given the night off. He watched Kurt work, filling drink orders and flirting for tips. God, why didn't Kurt ever flirt with him like that?

"Having fun, yet?" Kurt asked teasingly during a short lull. Sebastian looked up at him, sipping a water.

"Yes," he bit out spitefully. Kurt smirked.

"Really, I am," Sebastian sighed. "I'm exhausted and dehydrated and sore, but this is what I've wanted to do for a while. I got a degree in this."

"You have a degree in provocative dance?" Kurt asked doubtfully.

"Well, no, in musical theater," Sebastian mumbled. Kurt snorted into laughter.

"You're joking."

"No." Kurt stopped laughing.

"You sing?"

"Quite well, thank you very much," Sebastian sniffed.

"Is that why you're always on Santana about getting the dancers to sing?" Kurt asked intuitively.

"Yes." Kurt nodded and filled a customer's drink order.

"I actually graduated top of my class in NYADA," Sebastian said as he returned to his side.

"Blaine was fifth in his class," Kurt muttered vaguely, "his voice is amazing."

"So?" Sebastian snapped.

"Hey, hey, whoa," Kurt said quickly holding up his hands, "I'm just saying you're just as good if not better." Sebastian relaxed.

"I actually tried out for NYADA," Kurt murmured.

"Did you get in?" Kurt shook his head and turned away. Sebastian thought back to the conversations he'd had with Blaine and was willing to bet Kurt's rejection had caused something of a wedge between the pair as well.

"So where did you go instead?" Sebastian asked.

"I went to art school," Kurt replied. "I thought about going into fashion, but I realized I was only into dressing fashionably. I could design outfits, but I couldn't make them and I wasn't interested in making them. I just wanted to draw things and wear them. So I applied to Columbia School of Arts, RISD and School of Art Institute of Chicago, plus a several safeties."

"Which did you get in to?"

"All of them, actually. It was a nice surprise since I never considered myself particularly amazing at drawing."

"So you have a degree in art? That's cool," Sebastian said. "Can I see some of your stuff sometime?

"None of it's that great," he mumbled. "And you don't have to lie."

"What do you mean?"

"Art isn't really a great career. Why do you think I'm here?"

"Who told you it wasn't a good career? You got into three of the top art schools in the country, Kurt. You must be amazing! You could probably go places," Sebastian insisted. Kurt looked at him quizzically.

"Porcelain! Flirt with your boy toy off the clock. I pay you to mix drinks, not get laid!" Santana shouted to him. Kurt rolled his eyes and waved to Santana.

"Blaine," he said simply. Sebastian ground his teeth. This was the man Kurt was with. This man who was a self-elevating prick. This man who was so self centered he wasn't going to marry his _'soul mate'_ because a show got extended. He didn't give up a part in a musical to marry Kurt. And he was apparently perfectly clear on his stance on Kurt's choice of career. Unsupportive bastard. Sebastian's frown deepened. And he was a cheater. Once a cheater, always a cheater. And Kurt was still with him.

"Why?" he asked aloud.

"Why what?" Jeff asked, leaning on the counter.

"Why is Kurt still with him?!"

"That's the question we all ask ourselves," he muttered. "Finn actually hates Blaine, ever since he cheated."

"I thought he kind of liked him," Sebastian asked.

"Not slightly, Chipmunk," Jeff said. "Whatever Finn says to other people, he detests Blaine. He'll never tell Kurt, though."

"Why not? Someone needs to tell him Blaine isn't the one."

"Go for it, Horse Teeth."

"Just. Why?" he muttered. Jeff shrugged.

"Have you ever seen Kurt's art?" he asked. Jeff looked at him.

"Once. It was incredible."

"And he could have sold it?"

"For at least a half grand."

"Goddamn. Fucking Blaine."

"Have a good night, Sebastian," Jeff said, biting back his smile. He strolled off, Santana falling into step beside him.

"And I'm nobody's boy toy!" Sebastian shouted after them. Santana's laughter was cut off by the dressing room door.


	9. Chapter 9

**HI GUYS! So I haven't updated in forever and I feel REALLY bad about that, but I got to school, then my internet went to poop and then I was doing school work and blah... So, here's one now and I'll put up another chapter of Entropy tomorrow, I promise! Love you!**

* * *

The week passed. It was Friday before Sebastian knew it and Santana was ready to put him on stage. Kurt snorted behind him as she told him the news. Santana smirked as she walked back to the dressing room. And Jeff gave him a slightly condescending sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he passed.

"Okay, you all know something I don't, don't you?" Sebastian asked as Thad strolled past giving him a slight grimace on the way.

"Gee, you think?" Kurt asked, a smile fighting its way on to his face. Sebastian glared at him.

"Come on, Kurt," Sebastian begged. Kurt just grinned like he had a dirty little secret and walked back to the bar.

"Don't screw up," he said tauntingly. A bad feeling settled in his gut.

"I just posted the set list, make sure you're ready," Santana called as he entered the dressing room, taking his place at the mirror that used to be Marley's.

"Good luck, Sebastian!" Rachel cried, bouncing behind him in his the mirror.

"You should probably keep it for yourself, Man Hands, I don't need luck. I run on pure skill," Sebastian smirked.

"It's cute you have such confidence, Horse Teeth," Quinn sneered as she passed.

"Oh my God! Quinn!" Jeff cried sarcastically, "You're here!" Quinn shot him a dirty look.

"Suit up, Lucy Caboosey," Santana snapped. She slapped a set list on Sebastian's mirror right over his face. He stared.

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Oh, you'll need this, too" she said on her way back from handing off the set list to the others. She dropped an eyeliner pencil in front of him.

"You're joking," he muttered. He tore the set list—helpfully, the most difficult numbers—from his mirror and opened the pencil. He had no idea how to use it.

"Water, ladies?" Kurt's voice came as he strolled into the dressing room.

"Half of us are men, Gay Face," Puck called to him. Kurt shrugged.

"You're gyrating your hips in spandex to pop-dance songs. Tell me you're still a man, now, Noah," Kurt shot back with an innocent smile. He handed Puck a water and continued over to Sebastian.

"Need some help?" he asked as Sebastian stabbed himself in the eye again.

"No."

"Boys on in five!" Jeff called. Kurt shrugged.

"I gotta get back to the bar. Just remember, San will have your dick if you're not properly dressed," he called over his shoulder.

"Get back here and help me with this, Princess," Sebastian snapped. Kurt smirked.

"This is so priceless," he muttered, taking the eyeliner from his hand. Both of them ignored the spark igniting between their hands as they touched. Kurt applied the black kohl with an expert hand.

"Three minutes to places," Jeff called, coming back through from checking with the band.

"All set, Chip," he pronounced, backing away to check his work.

"Chip?" Sebastian asked, failing to notice Kurt's stunned expression. "Kurt?" He turned away from his reflection to see Kurt staring at him wordlessly. "Kurt?" he asked again, his voice dropping to a whisper.

His eyes flickered to Kurt's lips as they unconsciously leaned closer to each other. He felt Kurt's breath ghost over his face. He wanted to taste it. Unique dropped the brush she was holding as Quinn knocked into her chair from behind. The clatter broke them apart, alerting them to the others in the very crowded room. Kurt cleared his throat.

"Perfect," he murmured. "I have to get back to the bar and you have to dance. Break a leg. Literally."

"Ha ha," Sebastian grumbled sarcastically. Thad smirked and winked at him as he passed, pulling Sebastian up out of his chair.

"I saw that," he hissed conspiratorially. "You've got it bad for our Porcelain. And looks like he's feeling that same." Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Kurt is getting married," he mumbled. Thad snorted.

"Not if any of us can help it. Now, come on. Put on your dancing shoes. I may be the only one tonight who doesn't think you'll fuck this up," he released Sebastian behind the curtain and headed to his place on the opposite end of the stage. "Don't make a liar out of me, Stretch."

* * *

"You never answered me before," Sebastian said as he plopped down across from Kurt with a put-upon sigh.

"Huh?"

"You called me Chip, earlier," he reminded him. Kurt chuckled.

"Oh, that," he said with another laugh, "just trying out new nicknames. So, you know, Chip as in Chip and Dale the chipmunks."

"You're so creative," Sebastian muttered.

"Don't I know it," Kurt said, ignoring the sarcasm oozing from Sebastian's words. He grinned.

"Let's just get home," he snapped. Kurt rolled his eyes but grabbed his bag.

"Hey, Ian, you okay locking up?" Kurt called. Ian's skunk-striped head bobbed into view in the sound booth.

"I'm good. See you tomorrow?" he called.

"Yeah. Later," Kurt called. Ian waved.

"By the way, Sebastian, you did great tonight. Santana was looking for a way to trip you up," he called down, leaning over the rail and pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Thanks," Sebastian said. Ian flashed a smile and returned to the sound board.

"And just a warning," he continued as he worked, "she's working on a new dance. And a new way to get our sweet Porcelain back on stage."

"Never gonna happen," Kurt called.

"Too bad, I'd like to see that," Sebastian grumbled sullenly. Kurt snorted.

"What are you, a preschooler?" Kurt asked. Ian laughed.

"You know, I think I still have a video of one of his performances around here," Ian told him through his chuckles.

"I'll pay you for it," Sebastian shouted.

"Let's go." Kurt grabbed Sebastian by the sleeve and half dragged him out. Ian shook his head and smiled, imitating the sound of a whip cracking under his breath.

* * *

The weeks passed quickly. Sebastian quickly found out that doing the dances on his own every so often was nothing compared to shaking it on stage every night under the blazing lights. Summer was approaching and the basement lounge was stifling even on the coolest nights. He felt worked to the bone; he would barely be able to hold on to Kurt on the ride home then he fell into bed the minute they walked through the door. He would always wake up with his jeans thrown over a chair and his shoes next to the couch, so Kurt clearly tucked him in each night. Santana was working on a new number which meant waking up early to go in and rehearse. He felt like he barely got any sleep anymore. Kurt assured him his body just had to get used to it. Easy for him to say, he didn't go to bed sore every night.

One Sunday—the day the club was, thankfully, closed so everyone got a day to sleep in—he was very rudely awoken by Kurt's harsh shout.

"Sebastian!"

"Whaa?" he mumbled, rolling toward the voice.

"Did you use my towel? Again?" Kurt demanded sounding past irritated. Sebastian considered. Yes, there was a good possibility. This would be the fourth time he'd done it just this week. "I found it soaking wet on the bathroom floor."

"Sorry," Sebastian muttered tiredly, rolling back over and trying to go back to sleep.

"How's that apartment hunt coming?" Kurt hissed, advancing into the room. Sebastian groaned and finally opened his eyes. He was momentarily rendered speechless by the sight of Kurt with only a towel around his hips, leaning down to pick up the apartment listings in the morning paper. He threw the paper at Sebastian, breaking the spell.

"Everything's over a thousand a month," he complained, sitting up and stretching.

"Well, it's fucking LA. But can you really just put a price on privacy like that?" Kurt demanded, passing him to get a cup of coffee. "I mean, your own bed, bathroom?"

"I'll keep looking, Christ," Sebastian cried. Kurt flicked on the coffee maker and stalked to his bedroom to dress. Sebastian sighed and picked up the listings.

Pulling on a fresh shirt and jeans, he grabbed a pen and went to the breakfast bar. He waited for the coffee to brew as he read through his options. Kurt had lent him his laptop to search as well, but LA was a pretty expensive place to live. He chewed the cap of the pen and grabbed a mug as the machine dinged. Kurt returned and got his own coffee.

"What about these?" Sebastian asked, pushing the paper over having circled a few places.

"They look okay," he said breezily. His cell rang on the counter. Kurt pounced, it was Blaine's ring tone. "Hi, babe," he breathed, exiting the room. Sebastian practically groaned. Stupid Blaine.

He circled a few more before Kurt returned from the bedroom. There was slight tension in his shoulders and Sebastian wasn't even surprised that he'd noticed this anymore. He had given up trying to stop himself falling in love with Kurt. It was too late already. He supposed that was a pretty big part of the reason he hadn't really put in his best effort in the apartment hunt; he didn't want to be far from Kurt. Like, ever.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at the paper. Sebastian's breath caught and he sincerely hoped Kurt hadn't noticed. Kurt reached a hand around him to tap one of the spaces he'd circled.

"Looks pretty expensive. And the rest of these are kind of far from the club; you'll probably need a car. And make sure utilities are included, because AC is going to cost a fortune," he said. Sebastian eyed him suspiciously as he went about making breakfast.

"What about this?" he asked, pushing a few pages he'd printed off the internet yesterday.

"Are you sure you can afford these? It _is_ LA after all," Kurt asked. He sighed and continued, "look, I'm going to suck it up. You can stay. Just pitch in a bit for rent and I'll try to keep my mouth shut." Sebastian stared at him long and hard, Kurt didn't look up.

"What did Blaine have to say?" he asked shrewdly.

"Huh? Oh," Kurt said airily, "hi, I think? Hmm, what else?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"You're a shitty liar." Kurt bit his lip.

"The guy he was staying with moved so he had to get a hotel room," he continued. Sebastian waited. "So he has to cover that and can't pay rent here." Sebastian let a smirk crawl across his face.

"So, basically, I have to help you pay rent here or you're looking at eviction?" he asked gleefully, "my, my, my how the tables have turned. One minute I'm a no-good free-loader and the next I'm the only person keeping you from selling your designer pieces."

"Yes or no?" Kurt sighed out. Sebastian let his smirk grow. Feeling vengeful after his cruel wake-up call, he leaned on the counter toward Kurt who was across from him.

"What's the proposal?" he asked. Kurt rolled his eyes but humored him.

"Lovely apartment. Utilities and _full bathroom_ included," he began. Sebastian snatched the paper.

"Oh, studio apartment with a _great view_," he gushed exaggeratedly. Kurt sighed.

"Use of the kitchen and half the closet," he continued tightly.

"Hm, hot tub and pool in building," Sebastian said, starting to walk away. Kurt groaned.

"Bastian," he whined, probably knowing full well what the nick name did to him.

"I want the bedroom," Sebastian said, turning on him with an evil glint in his eyes.

"No. No way," Kurt said, jumping up and coming toward him. Sebastian turned away again.

"Here's one in Beverly Hills," he trailed off.

"Fine," Kurt said quickly. "You can have my bedroom." Sebastian grinned deviously.

"Aw, thanks, Love," he purred, throwing down the paper. He backed into the bedroom, eyes never leaving Kurt's enraged but resigned face. He smirked once more and closed the double doors. Kurt fell back against the breakfast bar.

"Dear God, give me the strength not to murder him in his sleep," he mumbled, tilting his head skyward.


End file.
